


Clean Slate

by Wafflicious



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King
Genre: Bathing/Washing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wafflicious/pseuds/Wafflicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuthbert and Alain share a moment of well deserved intimacy after a long journey</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Slate

There were journeys and then there were _journeys_. And this had been one of the latter.

Roland was awake at last and everything seemed to be in order, home had never seemed so welcome. Their fathers and teachers had all expressed their pride and approval and all three boys-now men had told the most basic and important parts of their tale.

And then came the great void. No one quite knew what to do with them now. They were home, they were safe and they were surely not the boys that had been sent to Mejis so long ago. So while plans were being drawn and decisions made Roland, Cuthbert and Alain were left to fend for themselves.

None of them could claim surprise to see Roland wander off with that damnable sack in hand, back to his room to rot away in the light of the wicked pink thing. Cuthbert and Alain are left in the hall, staring after him and wondering what to do with themselves.

Alain breaks the silence, to the relief of both.

“We smell terrible.”

 

It is more difficult to get a bath with all the fuss over their return, but eventually they settle it. Alain is right, they do smell something awful.

There is a moment now, brief but meaningful, when the two should turn away from one another. Instead, both hesitate and nearly collide when each tries to go after the other. It is decided they should stick together. After all, they had gone to hell and back together already. Are they not tet? One from many?

There is more than enough hot water for two people, and fresh clean clothes to wear after. The bath is big enough for both and they’ve been given plenty of time and privacy to do whatever needs doing.

Cuthbert, of course, takes his shirt off first. He’s never been shy, has no reason to be. Alain hesitates, not sure what to do with himself, and even less sure what to do with Bert there.

“Go on then. There’s room enough for both of us, I wot.”

Somehow the slip into Mejis dialect makes Alain feel more at home. They take the rest of their clothes off in silence, neither wanting to mention how thin and worn the other looks.

Alain settles into the tub first and can’t stop the moan of ecstasy the water brings out of him. Bert chuckles behind him and Alain’s cheeks burn, but neither of them say anything.

Eventually Cuthbert slides into the water and barely contains his own joy at the feeling. Alain is content to wash in peace, but Cuthbert can never let things stay quiet for too long.

“’Tis almost a crime how good this feels.”

Alain agrees quietly, distracted then by a rather rough looking scratch on Cuthbert’s back still smeared in dried blood and dirt. In must have seemed small compared to the other aches and cuts they had earned in the last few months, but that didn’t mean it shouldn’t be seen to.

Without really meaning to he reaches out and touches the scratch making Bert jump under his fingers.

“Mind your hands, Al, that’s still not healed.” Bert warns him.

“I cry your pardon.” Alain replies, but rather than stopping all together he takes the washcloth he had been using on his arms a moment earlier and gently dabs at the dried blood.

He expects to be chastised again, or for Bert to move away, but he doesn’t. So Alain keeps washing and is relieved to find that the cut isn’t nearly so bad as it first looked.

Once he’s cleaned the blood and dirt off, Alain lets his strokes go further, washing the rest of the grime and road dirt and weariness from Cuthbert’s back. Cuthbert lets him, enjoying the attention and closeness between them.

“I cannot describe how nice that was.” He says when Alain is done. His voice is quiet, almost like he doesn’t want to be heard.

“Mayhap you can do the same for me?” Alain replies just as quietly. He chastises himself mentally for even thinking such a thing, let alone having it slip out his mouth. But a cautious look catches the nod Bert gives and they shift positions.

Cuthbert’s hands are rough when he starts in, though he is being gentle. Other than the sounds of their movement in the water the room is quiet and Alain is happy to leave it that way but for the sudden and almost overwhelming feeling of the touch in his mind.

The images are hazy and half formed but the desperation is so real it hurts like a shot to Alain’s chest. He can see himself, and Roland beside him, and both are growing dim and distant away on different paths while Cuthbert stands looking after them.

He jerks away suddenly and before the surprise can entirely sink in wraps his arms around Cuthbert.

“I will not leave thee. Not for anything, Bert, on my father’s face.”

Cuthbert is struck silent for a moment but wraps his arms around Alain all the same.

“Straying into my mind then, were you?”

“By accident, say true.” His arms are still tight around Cuthbert’s neck, leaving him practically in the other boy’s lap.

When the need for comfort finally wears off Alain sees just how close they are and pulls back again. He is blushing faintly now, but then, so is Bert.

“Alain…” In all his life, Alain can never remember hearing his name said thus. So sweet, so desperate, the way a lover might. Before he can stop the thought his prick is betraying him, stirring beneath the water. He doesn’t dare look down to confirm that Bert can see it too, so he looks at Bert instead, eyes straying down under the faintly murky water. His breath catches in his throat when he sees that his friend is half hard as well.

In an instant they’re at it. They move together to kiss, moths to the flame, but neither is well experienced and the kiss is rough, painful and therefore short. Their second attempt is better, less fury and more care. It fills up their world.

Cuthbert eventually separates them. He glances at the door as if he expects someone to be there, then back to Alain. Both of them are flushed now and their eyes are dilated. Their faces painted in broad strokes of lust and guilt. This is their last moment of sense, their last chance to stop something which might destroy them otherwise.

“If we are heard…” Alain says, just barely more than a whisper. He moves to separate them and finds himself brushing against Cuthbert’s prick by accident. They both gasp at the contact.

“Then we shall be silent.” Cuthbert answers, breathless. And so they are doomed to the deed.

A hand slips below the water and Alain feels how calloused Bert’s palm is, similar but somehow entirely different to his own. He gasps in surprise and finds Bert’s other hand over his mouth before he can blink.

They freeze a moment, aware of even the tiniest sound from outside but only a slight breeze answers. Bert starts to stroke Alain beneath the water and only after he’s established a rhythm takes his hand from the blond’s mouth.

Alain’s mind is now shrunk down to the single image of his friend touching his prick in a way only he has done to himself before. He feels lost, not sure why Cuthbert is holding his wrist and moving his hand until he feels something hard against his palm. And for as much as the act of having Bert touch him is pleasant, returning the favor is even better.

Both boys have spent their last year or more learning how to keep their carnal pleasure as silent as possible and it’s paying off now more than ever as each works the other faster and faster beneath the water. Alain feels his end coming fast now and squeezes Bert’s shoulder, trying to warn him.

Cuthbert closes the distance between them and kisses his friend to keep him from making too much noise as he comes. Alain is grateful for the last moment his mind knows clarity before descending into thoughtlessness.

When he gets use of his mind back again Bert is still rutting into his loosened grip, looking desperate and biting his lip to keep silent. Alain takes a tighter hold of his friend’s prick and the stimulation proves enough to finish him.

It doesn’t take long for the euphoria to turn itself into fear and guilt. They are holding their breath now, wondering when the trap will spring and they will be caught out in their indiscretion. Instead of gaining their guns after all they’ve been through they may just be sent West. But the minutes tick by and no sign is given that their guilt has been made known to any but them. So they get out, dry and dress as quickly as they comfortably can without saying a word.

Not that anything need be said. Both know how dangerous even a single word on what they’ve done could be. They will be walking away again after this, to different places so as not to seem suspicious. The only time either may think of it again is in the comfort of a bunk, quiet as they can… but not so quiet that another pair of sharp ears could mistake the sounds.


End file.
